I am a storyteller by heart.

Funny, moving, crazy, touching, absurd stories unfold as I do my regular, daily-day things; in my encounters with ordinary and extra-ordinary people and situations; and when buried in stacks and stacks of scientific articles, dissertations and books about rhetorics and psychiatry. I can’t help it. Especially vivid becomes the stories when I encounter Shetland ponies. They are a full story in themselves worth to tell, each and everyone of them. Let’s take a halt there for a minute. This wasn’t in the cards for me when I grew up. The pony thing, that is. My very first encounter with a pony was a scary creature disguised in the furry coat of a Dartmoor pony. Little did I know that day when eight year old me took my first trembling steps into the house of horses, would not only own ponies myself one day, but also involve ponies in my business to help people overcome their fears(!). It wasn’t in my mind that day that being around horses could help me find strategies for how to cope with life, like it isn’t for most people. The only thing on my mind that day was to survive, and my strategy for that was to do … nothing. When the pony planted her hoof on my toes at our first intervention, I didn’t dare to poke her to get her hoof off my foot in case she then wanted to eat me instead. I had done my research, read all the Thellwell’s books, and knew that ponies always were hungry. And this one looked like she had missed a meal. So my strategy then was to stand in silence hoping for the pain and the pony to disappear on its own. Eventually it did.

Happy to have survived I continued chasing ponies, living stories and reading books. One thing I didn’t do was to write. I have always had a vivid imagination, as a child I was a pop-star, in my own mind, and a very creative songwriter. My brother is probably forever grateful that this wore off quite quickly. He is probably traumatized for life after being forced to listen to his baby sister perform her impromptu songs on our hours long drives to our grandparents. The same imagination always comes to life when I encounter a pony. Caged up for years, I have now decided to give them wings and let us see which stories they bring us.

Fast forward to the present, I’m not all about ponies. For the last 15 years or so I have had other people’s well being in focus. I have worked as a therapist, coach, milieu worker in psychiatry and teacher, and it has all given me foundation to great stories. It has also provided the insight on how hard it can be to meet the life’s requirements from society, from colleagues and from one self. Not only through my own experiences, but also through everything I have observed and witnessed and all the ones I have talked to over the years. This has triggered my writing and speaking gene. Not that I have the answer to everything, rather that I sometimes see how my point of view can help others, whether it is on a deep level or on a pony funny level. Ponies are to me a metaphor for one important aspect in our life – to be a bit quirky and ease the seriousness. They also serve as a connection to understand ourselves and the human life in general. And voila – the pony entered the scene again. They are stubborn, those little rascals.


My bio:

I have a bachelor degree in rhetorics and composition, an associate degree in psychology. Also studied coaching and leadership. In addition I am a naturopath in biological medicine, a canine massage therapist, a Bowen therapist, and an EAGALA practitioner

I have worked as a therapist, coach and consultant, I have run a horse assisted psychotherapy program in Norway. The last 6 years I have worked in psych ward. I have also been a teacher in upper secondary school. 

Besides being a storyteller, I am communication cultivator at Mazebo where I help individuals, teams and organizations to improve their communications skills.